In the Days Leading Up to Us
by shomarus
Summary: They couldn't quite get a tree that was as big as it was that year, but the simple fact that they'd chose the tree for themselves, for their apartment, made it enough for Therese.


The branches were flushed a powerful dark green. They prickled, didn't droop down, and had been completely stripped of its cones. Healthy and strong, just like all good trees should be. But it was not the same as the pine Carol had wanted, ("I don't suppose we could put a tree out on the balcony—no, that wouldn't work at all… Well, I guess we'll have to compromise.") instead a smallish and young spruce tree Therese picked out when they went tree shopping.

"It's not as grand as it was two years ago, is it?"

Carol stepped back to look at the tree they picked out. The tree, stood up in all of its glory, barely reached the top of the apartment roof but left enough room for Therese to think about putting up a small angel. "It isn't," Therese agreed, but her tone led way to a small, dreamy smile. It was not grand, but Therese thought the tree was far more perfect, felt much more complete than the tree from two years ago ever had. A tree borne out of a mother who wanted a quick distraction because she was frustrated with her child being ripped away from her arms, or a tree borne out of a pleasant domesticity, one that both Carol and herself could learn to love? No, the tree wasn't that grand, but even that made it perfect. "But it's _our_ tree this year."

"Our tree," Carol repeated, and her own lips drew into a smile. "Yes, I love that! We should get down to decorating it, then."

Therese knew that if she hadn't moved into the apartment with Carol, it was likely that Carol wouldn't have picked up a tree at all. She only picked up that tree because Therese was with her and she was upset. Frankly, would Therese have been able to blame her? The Christmas season left Therese in a state of what felt like perpetual depression. The happiness and the joy of the people around her had sucked the life out of her. She hadn't put up any lights, sent out any Christmas letters. Instead she holed up in her room and listened to the radio specials that played. Left her letters on the end table, only to be opened on New Year's, because she didn't want to be rude to the people who cared. She'd been especially bitter that year, cynical to the idea of fickle joy, but not now.

No, Therese was at peace, really.

"You'll be happy to see this, I think," Carol said and stepped into another room. Therese stared after her for a moment before she dug into the box of ornaments and pulled out bauble and tinsel garland to hang and drape over the boughs of the branches. Carol reappeared a moment later, cotton bunched around her arms.

It reminded Therese of the days when Carol and her had just met. She'd been happy then, and Therese was happy now. She took the cotton and wrapped it around the bottom of the tree. Carol produced a strip of wrinkled paper as well, and Therese raised an eyebrow.

The little string of angels was crinkled in places, but left in a generally good condition. "You really kept them," Therese said, half-incredulously. But yes, of course Carol had. "I thought you would just keep them tucked behind book pages."

"Oh, I had. For… For a while, anyway. I was going to give away the stack of books to Mr. Carver's daughter, though I kept this one because I remembered the angels, so I…" Carol trailed off awkwardly. She must have felt awful about them, because it was sentimental, _far_ too sentimental, but Therese _was_ pleased to see them again. Her smile turned giddy, and in a rush of sudden euphoria, leaned up to kiss her.

"Is the book even that good?" Therese asked with an impish little smile, tucking a few misplaced strands of Carol's hair behind her ear. Carol's awkward demeanour broke there, and she laughed. Therese once upon a time thought that she could never make Carol laugh in a way that was truly free. But she could, and Carol did, and it was the most wonderful sound in the world (except for perhaps the sounds Carol made during their under-the-sheets trysts).

"No, not at all. I couldn't even get through the first half of it."

Therese pulled away, though her hand lingered on Carol's side for a fraction of a second. "You know what I was thinking when we decorated the tree?" She strung the angels over the tree and smiled. Her head shook because the thoughts seemed so distant then. "I found a way to make you happy. Somehow, even after that news. And I thought, 'These are the moments I want to capture'. Your happiness meant the world to me. It still does."

Carol remained silent for a second. She knew the words that would be spoken with the guilt and depression that Carol felt every once in a while. Therese decided to continue, "I thought back then that I could _never_ make you as happy as you ever made me. Yet, I look at what we have here, and I'm satisfied. Really, I think you've spoiled me rotten, Carol."

"That's because indulging you makes _me_ happy," Carol said and leaned forward. She embraced Therese from behind and wrapped her arms around her front. "Everything's changed so much since then."

"Yes," said Therese with a nod. In the year they spent apart, Therese knew that she'd grown up. A rebirth, in a sense. She was no longer meek and pliable, willing to bend over backward for no reason other than to please Carol. She loved Carol to Hell and back, but it was all in a different light, a light she was happy to explore and play with. She had a newfound sense of self, and with her personality changed, her appearance changed as well. Carol oftentimes spoke of how mature Therese looked and how it pleased her to see her that way. The shorter hair was cute, sometimes 'sexy, but unfortunately too short to grab in the heat of the moment'. Therese had snorted, amused.

Indeed, so much has changed. Therese's old apartment looked dreary and dull compared to the promise that showed here in Madison Ave., she finally found her calling as a photojournalist, and even Carol was happy to work at her own job. "You know what hasn't changed?"

"What's what?" Carol asked, and Therese turned her head around to kiss Carol again. It was a kiss that lasted longer, one that allowed Therese's feelings to wash over her. Passionate, yet gentle, and a promise that could be kept.

"That I love you," Therese whispered against her lips. They were so close that she could feel Carol's smile.

"And that I love you as well."


End file.
